Stranger
by SkullszEyes
Summary: She wanted to do what she pleased without anyone interrupting her, so she wanders through a building, drinking, until she comes upon a strange man.


It was another day in Union, normal as it could be like any other town, besides it being inside a machine.

She had volunteered, and the second she was inside, she didn't care what the others thought of her. She wanted to do things her own way. So instead of following the regulations that were placed on them, she scoured the area and managed to find alcohol. She didn't expect to find it, but she hoped.

She cracked the bottle and took a swig. The burn almost made tears rise to her eyes, but as she pulled her mouth away, she let out a relieved sigh. A freedom she didn't think she'd have inside this machine. She knew it would be short lived as everything was building, more of the town was being created on the outskirts of the city.

The MOBIUS agents that were placed inside would catch on. So she had her time, spent her days drinking, and walking through buildings that weren't yet occupied. That was where she met him, inside an art gallery that was empty of portraits. She thought the building was empty, but she saw him standing before one lone painting.

She leaned against the wall, looking at him around the corner. She didn't want to interrupt his moment of staring at a portrait. So she brought the bottle to her lips, and took a sip, but he was there, standing in front of her.

She almost choked on the alcohol. "Holy shit."

He stared at her, "I didn't think anyone was in here."

She wiped at her mouth, "I didn't either...how did you—"

"Who are you?" he asked, glancing down at her body and back up at her face.

She rolled her eyes, of course she'd run into an asshole. "No one," she said, about to walk past him, but he grabbed her arm and pushed her back.

"I want to know," he said, stepping closer.

She furrowed her brows, annoyed. "I said I was no one, all I'm doing is drinking, having a little fun. You can go back to staring at the portrait, I'll wander upstairs."

"There's nothing here to warrant a tour."

She started to walk away, grateful he didn't stop her. "That's the point of having fun and drinking. There no one to stop me."

He didn't follow her, but with her hazy mind, she recalled how handsome he was, a bit different looking from the other townsfolk. He might even be a bit eccentric, but odd to linger by himself.

She found the stairs and walked up to the second floor. She was languid, spinning slowly as she entered and exited the rooms, brushing her fingers on the walls she walked by. She entered a wide room with a few chairs on the sides, the floors were dusty as she came to a window and pushed back the blinds. It was still bright out, she could see people walking around down the street. For now she'll have to stay here, but even the contents in her bottle wouldn't last long.

Sniffling, she turned around and jumped, a gasp left her lips before she glared at the man standing at the entrance of the room. He was leaned against the door post, watching her peculiarly.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" she asked him, tipping her head back and taking another swig.

"So sorry," he said, stepping into the room. "But I was curious about you."

She swallowed, tilting her head to the side. "You're curious about me?" she asked, leaning back against the window, "I'm no one...I keep on saying, another Union folk who is diving head first into alcohol and laziness." Her mind blurred, but she shook her head, blinking her eyes a few times. "You should go, leave me to my debauchery."

"By yourself with one bottle?" he asked, walking closer to her.

"Yes," she said, a laugh bubbling inside her, "I do have a stash which I'll be going back for once I'm done this." She waved the bottle at him.

"Dance with me," he extended his hand out to her.

She laughed, "What? You want me to dance with you?" she asked, incredulous. Of all things that could happen, this wasn't what she expected.

"Yes," he said, leaning forward and grasping her wrist, he tugged her forward, his other hand going for the bottle which he took. "Dance with me."

She glared at him, annoyed that he took the bottle and his hand was still on her. "I don't want to dance with you, I want to drink, get lost in this limited freedom that I have."

"I'll leave you alone if you dance with me," he said, the corner of his lips pulled taut into a smirk.

She rolled her eyes, sighing. "Of all the things that could happen to me, a stranger wants me to dance with him."

He placed the bottle on the window ledge and lead her into the middle of the room. He clasped his hand with hers, and his other hand went to her waist, pulling her closer.

"I don't know the waltz," she said, finding the posture a little awkward, and the situation strangely intimate. "I'm also drunk so I might step on your toes."

"I have shoes on."

"I do too."

He reached for her hand and placed it on his shoulder. "It's easy, even a drunk woman can figure it out." And then they moved, awkward as she thought it would be, and a little nerve wracking. She didn't realize she was squeezing his hand tightly, and looking down to watch their feet to make sure she was doing something right.

"You'll get it," he said, swaying them around the room.

"Maybe," she said, finding the whole ordeal completely strange. "Why am I doing this? With a stranger of all things."

"Stefano," he said.

She arched a brow, "Why are we dancing in an empty building, Stefano?"

"I'm wondering if you'll be my muse in the near future," he said.

"Muse?" she questioned, but recalled that he stood in front of a portrait. "You do art?"

"I love art," he said, as if that answered everything, "art is amazing, at least mine will be once this place is covered in it."

She didn't understand him, but as they slowed and they lingered, she wasn't sure what she was supposed to do, and the close proximity made her want something she wasn't sure of. So instead she let go of him, and walked away, back to the bottle.

She picked it up and heard something behind her, a shadow made her turn around and he stood close to her. Too close, and he pressed her against the window, and kissed her.

With the strange dancing and the alcohol in her system, she sank into the kiss, the bottle dropping on the ground without any care. She was still free to do what she pleased. This was on her own terms, instead of MOBIUS, and kissing some guy in an empty building might be one of those things she'd gladly do.

She breathed through her nose as she tugged him closer until their bodies were against each others. He deepened the kiss, drawing out a moan from her. She had this ache inside her that made her demand more, and maybe it was the alcohol in her system, but she could barely hold herself up.

He gripped her hips, turning his head to the side and pulling out another moan from her. The elation dragged throughout her body, and she knew she was being shameless while kissing this total stranger. But he was hot with a sexy accent, she wasn't about to let that opportunity slip through her fingers.

He broke the kiss and she followed him, her fingers still knotted in the fabric of his suit. She couldn't believe he was going to stop, not after that, not after following her up to the second floor, ruining her fun, and dancing, then kissing her. It was ridiculous.

"Don't ruin it," she told him, breathing heavily, her body wanting him to come back to her, she earned for him.

"I'm not," he said, grinning, "I just wanted to see how you looked."

She glared, but her ire was weak. "Ruined, possibly."

"Possibly," he said, his voice guttural as he pushed her against the window again, a little harder. The kiss at first was a caress, they breathed into each others lips, before he swallowed her whole. Passionate, demanding and relentless, she could barely think with him kissing her like this, but she didn't want to kiss. She wanted him to stay with her, and she wrapped her hands around his neck, fingers touching the base of his hair.

Her body is warm, and a shiver runs down her spine as he touches her sides. He knew exactly what to do, but he kept his hands from any sensitive areas. She didn't mind, the kissing was enough, but the room was growing hot by the second.

Her hands find their way into his hair, lightly pulling. She hopes he doesn't stop, but they soon need breath and he leans his forehead against hers. Their panting hard, a desire rising in both of them.

"This is unfair," she said after a moment.

"How?" he asked, shifting which made her suck in a breath at a sudden pressure between her legs. She doesn't show any other discomfort, mostly because she doesn't want to go down that road, not yet.

"You know your sexy, and you know I wouldn't have disagreed when you kissed me," she said, ignoring the comment she gave him.

He chuckled, his hands stayed on her hips, his fingers caressing her sides. When he got his hands under her shirt, she didn't know, but it felt good.

"I don't normally take advantage of drunk girls," he said, "but you could've pushed me away."

She smiled, "And you knew I wouldn't."

"I figured you would...you don't seem the type of woman to let a man kiss them without consent."

She couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Thanks for trying to justify yourself, but I give full consent to you kissing me."

"That's wonderful," he said, capturing her lips again, her head pressed against the window as he deepens the kiss that makes her lose herself. The intensity leaves her dazed and finally, as if it took forever, he pulled away.

She gripped the ledge of the window to keep herself up. "We should do this more often," she said, watching him walk away from her.

He stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Oh, we will." And then he's gone, in a blink of an eye. She doesn't question it, her mind is still swimming with alcohol and now lust had built up inside her, making her warm.

She frowned down at the empty bottle and spilled contents. "I have to get more anyway." She hoped to see him again, but maybe without alcohol in her system, and maybe a room with a bed.


End file.
